


Come on thrill me, come on kill me

by Callmepapi



Category: The Riot Club (2014)
Genre: Choking, Extremely Dubious Consent, In a way, I’m not sure what else to tag?, Other, Possession, Prostate Massage, Slutification, Sort of? - Freeform, Tentacles, i mean he’s tied to a chair so?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmepapi/pseuds/Callmepapi
Summary: ‘He tips his head up to peer over and his jaw falls open and his eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of his head when he sees the thing that all of these tentacles are attached to.‘Or, our little eager chap gets fucked by some sort of sex demon then gets possessed by it.Update: I changed his name to ‘Edgar’ cause I think that’s what he’s been dubbed?
Relationships: Eager chap (Edgar) / weird alien thing
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Come on thrill me, come on kill me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [safarikalamari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarikalamari/gifts).



> Okay I just got this idea on a whim and rolled with it. So yeah, enjoy lol XD

Edgar wouldn't consider himself a light sleeper, he could sleep through a lot of loud noises. His dorm roommate, Kevin, is particularly noisy and has a tendency to come home after midnight blackout drunk, which is quite bothersome, especially when Edgar has an early class the next day. So, no. Edgar is not a light sleeper, but he’s pretty sure that anyone would wake up to a bright light being shone into their eyes.

The first thing he registers is that he’s no longer in his semi-comfy bed in his semi-comfy dorm. No, he seems to be in an old chair that’s hard and uncomfortable and digging into his bones. The second thing he realises is that his wrists are bound and so are his shoulders and his ankles. They’re all tied to the chair with a thick rope that’s old and fraying and could easily be cut away if he had some scissors - but he doesn’t, because he’s in his pyjamas; a stripy blue and white set that his mother had bought him for his time at university.

His head sluggishly lolls to the side and, was he drugged? Or is he just tired? It’s not like he’s ever been drugged before so he has nothing to compare it too, he just feels slightly fuzzy and his limbs ache a bit, as if he’d been up all night studying or when his body’s telling him he’s about to get a cold - minus the sore throat.

The bright light is still very much in his face so he carefully opens his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust which is all for naught as the light is suddenly clicked off and his eyes have to readjust to the darkness of wherever he is. It’s a room anyway, there’s no breeze that tells him he’s outside nor is there any outdoor noise. Looking forward is complete darkness, to his right is the same. To his left he swears he can make out some stairs and a bannister. He faces forward again and it’s still pretty dark but he swears the darkness is closer, like he can feel the presence of something inches from his face. It’s only when he forces his eyes to adjust as much as they can that he realises there’s a face in front of him - some sort of weird furry wolf that’s baring it's sharp teeth.

He jerks back in his bindings, which doesn’t really do much apart from making the old chair creak, and the thing in front of him laughs. But its mouth doesn’t move? It's at this point Edgar realises that it’s just a mask. This must all be some sort of prank that Kevin had thought up. Ha ha, pick on the introverted roommate, what a funny fucking joke, right?

“Kevin, if this is a prank it’s not very funny. I will be reporting you for this,” he says, his voice slurs slightly. The masked person in front of him backs away until he’s standing straight across from him. There’s also maybe three other masked people on either side of him too. Now, he knows Kevin has friends, he’s observant, not nosy, but he doesn’t have that many friends. Kevin’s more like the guy that you invite to a party, not because you want him there, but because he’ll get shit-faced and do something really stupid that’ll be funny at the time but bite him in the ass when he’s looking for a job.

“There’s no Kevin here, Edgar. We want to talk to you, perhaps more?” The masked person says. His voice is quite low and Edgar racks his brain but he’s quite certain he’s never heard it before so he just stays quiet and lets them speak.

“We heard you wanted to join a club, the riot club to be precise. This is not that club, however, we would like to use you for our own gathering here. You can say no, but we’re still going ahead with it. We,” he gestures a hand at the rest of them, “worship a god, an old god. A god that helps us with fertility, prosperity and luck. We’ve only ever prayed to it but, gods, what would a sacrifice get us, hm?” Edgar’s eyebrows shoot up as he takes in the information. They want to try and sacrifice him, to some god? His father always told him that university would be a wild ride but this!? This!? What the actual fuck. He scoffs at them, before replying.

“You… you want to, sorry? Sacrifice me? You do realise that what you’re saying is… is incredulous! You can’t sacrifice-” he’s cut off as the ‘leader’ suddenly interrupts him.

“We’ve done it before!… and don’t worry, we’ve been watching you for a while, Edgar. The god will be pleased with you.” With that he stands back and Edgar can’t help but scoff at them, at how stupid they look because really? They think that if they hold hands and say a few words an ancient being will be summoned to their shitty little after-school club?

He shakes his head at them and decides to look around and- oh, there’s some kind of pentagram on the floor… and it’s glowing? It is! Wow, what did they use, neon paints and some uv lights? Gosh they’re really going for it huh? But wait it’s getting brighter, paint doesn’t just get brighter like that does it? What does Edgar know, he’s not an art student.

All of a sudden there’s a beam of light so bright that Edgar clenches his eyes shut tight and it leaves him light headed and wondering what the fuck just happened. He can vaguely make out the shuffle of the other guys’ footsteps and the panicked whispers of the group.

“-the fuck is that?!”

“-I don’t know?!”

“-Jack, you fucked up the chant!”

“-Did not, it was Michael!”

“-Is it still gonna work?”

“-Wait, what’s it doing?” The voices seemed to wrap around Edgar's head as he couldn’t fully comprehend them. Then there’s footsteps and shuddered gasps as Edgar thinks they run away.

All of a sudden he feels something quickly tug at his buttoned-up pyjama shirt and the quiet scratch of something hitting the floor, then again, then again, until his chest is hit with the cooler breeze of the room. He cracks one eye open and notices that his shirt has been ripped open, the buttons are scattered on the floor around his chair, faintly shining. He then hears the ripping of seams come from below him and when he feels the air of his thighs he realises that his trousers are somehow being ripped off of him.

He wriggles in the chair but the rope stays taut and all of a sudden he feels something prod at his ass from below him and it’s only then that he realises that there’s a long, narrow oval shape cut out from the seat of the chair and whatever’s underneath him has fucking found it. It’s pushing again and he can actually feel the pressure release when the fabric tears apart.

“Hey, w- wait! Where are you guys?! I need help!” He shouts but no one replies. They’ve all left the room, left him!

Now there's some sort of hot, slick appendage rubbing itself down his ass and making him shiver in his seat, his face flushed and goosebumps appearing on his arms. It moves up and down his crack, slicking him with some sort of lubricant until it’s finally satisfied and doesn’t even bother with prep, just nudges it’s way into his hole and slowly but surely makes it's way up inside of him until Edgar can feel it in his throat, can taste it. And, surely enough, if he were to look down he would actually see it bulging out of his belly, wriggling around in his guts as it explores Edgar's helpless body.

He moans aloud suddenly as another slick appendage wraps itself tightly around his cock and he’s surprised, when he looks down, to see that he’s already completely hard - dripping onto his stomach. 

He stares in awe at the… tentacle? That wraps itself around him. He’s never seen anything like it. The appendage looks like the tentacle of an octopus only it’s harder and more veiny and he can’t actually see what it’s attached to. The head of the thing looks much like his own flushed cock -purple, throbbing and slick with pre. A few more smaller, softer tentacles slide their way up his thighs until there at atop his heaving chest, moving their way over to his nipples and gently rubbing against them, with enough force to make them hard and sensitive and have Edgar squirming in his seat as his cock jerks up and another load of pre spurts out of him.

At this point he’s breathless and sweating, practically begging for release in his own head as whatever it is doing this tortures him some more. It’s nothing like anything he’s ever felt before, and he’s not a virgin! He’s done the… the ‘sex’ before. But it was quick and fast and the girl he fucked just looked kinda bored the entire time so that was already half the experience gone.

He’s brought out of his thoughts as the thing inside him moves like a snake and brushes against something that has him near screaming in pleasure as his nerves feel like they’re on fire. He grips the chair with white knuckles and it creaks so much that he swears by the end of the night it will be broken. He’s so focused on the limbs that are moving in and outside of him, cause him all these sensations that makes him feel so close to coming that he doesn’t even register the other tentacle moving up his chest and wrapping around his throat until he suddenly feels that it’s harder to breathe.

His eyes shoot open and his vision flicks around the room and lands on his chest as much as it can with his neck being immobilised with the thick tentacle that’s wrapped itself around him. Of course, he should be terrified by this - it’s cutting off his air supply, which he needs to live thank you very much, but he can’t help but feel just a tad more turned on at the very thought of it.

His common sense suddenly rushes back to him and he has the decency to shout out, “help! Someone please! Help!” Before it turns into a loud drawn out moan as the limb in his ass nudges into the thing that has him tingling all over and near coming from the touch. 

He looks down at himself and his shocked eyes gaze over the wriggling tentacle underneath the skin of his belly that bulges out like a snake stuck in his intestines, the thought makes his stomach flutter. Then his eyes move past that to something pulsating in the floor. He tips his head up to peer over and his jaw falls open and his eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of his head when he sees the thing that all of these tentacles are attached to.

It’s some sort of sack, it looks like an uncooked haggis except it’s alive, pulsating grotesquely as other, smaller, appendages wriggle all over it. Edgar can’t help but scream at the sight, at the thought that this thing is inside him. Foregoing the pleasure, he begins thrashing in his bindings once more with renewed effort but it gets him nowhere, only causing the limb around his neck to tighten until he’s gasping for breath and black spots start to scatter across his vision.

Then, all of a sudden, the limb that’s literally in his intestines just slides out of him like a piece of limp spaghetti, grazing that new spot inside him and all he can do is just moan through gritted teeth as he’s pounded with the pleasure of it. He watches as the limb retreats into the sac and shrinks back down to the size of the other limbs that wriggle on it like maggots.

Then he’s speechless, as the sac begins moving forward like a caterpillar - hunching and sliding, hunching and sliding until, somehow, it manages to crawl up his leg, slide across his thigh and start trailing it's way across his chest and towards his mouth. Edgar’s arms jerk against the chair and at this point he’s terrified because he knows exactly where that thing is planning to go and he knows that there’s nothing he can do to stop it. The limbs that were caressing his nipples recede back into the sac as well as the limb that unravels itself from his neck.

He feels it slowly slide down his throat, the pulsating heart or whatever it is that’s inside the thing vibrates against his muscles. He gags, of course he does, but there’s nothing he can do to bring the thing back up. His eyes tear up and his nose starts to run as he’s stuck there, gazing at the ceiling as he feels the thing settle deep inside his body.

When he’s sure it’s in his stomach, or wherever it is, he gags for a good minute bringing up nothing but spittle and he looks down, swearing to himself that he can fucking see the lump of the thing moving underneath his belly. Nudging out so far that it touches his flushed, hard cock. It’s as if just remembering his own arousal causes a whole well of pleasure to flush through him and suddenly there’s nothing holding him back from coming so hard that his limbs are being electrocuted and his visions whiting out and he swears there’s come on his chin as he falls limp in the chair.

When his eyes flutter open again it takes him a minute to realise what’s happening. When he does remember he spares no time to gaze at his belly and see if the outline of the creature is still there. It is. It wriggles beneath his skin, snake-like, and he can feel nerves go off in his fingertips and his toes when it rolls over in his stomach. It hits him then - this thing, it’s a part of him now, it’s attached itself to him. Maybe tethered to his brain. Whatever the case it’s as much a part of Edgar as his toes are to his foot.

It’s not that bad really, he thinks to himself, if it can make him feel as good as what he just felt then is it truly that bad. Yeah, sure, it could now be controlling him but, come on. It’s not killing him, it doesn’t feel like it’s killing him. It feels like, no, he knows that this thing, this whatever it is - it needs him to survive; it feeds off of the pleasure that Edgar can gain from others. There’s absolutely no harm in keeping the thing, not that he has the choice.

And if he starts wearing loose open shirts that show off his chest, tight trousers that are practically a second skin to his ass. Starts wearing mascara and smoky eyeshadow and paints his nails wine-red, well that’s his choice, he just suddenly has a change in style. It’s not because there’s a sex crazed parasite controlling him, turned him into a slut that’s practically drooling over his professors and classmates, has him sucking cocks in the closets and eating out cunts after class.

Well, at least his grades have gone up.


End file.
